Harry Potter and the Stinky Sausage
by Moringotho-in-Angamando
Summary: The story of how Harry Potter and his friends bravely vanquish the Lord Voldemort, who is not as evil as he seems... or at least attempt to vanquish him!
1. Chapter 1

p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.1199998855591px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"It was the average school day for Harry Potter. It began with waking up to Ron's frantic screaming for Harry to do so, since there were only two hours left until school. It was right in the middle of Harry's dream about Quidditch, a game in the Wizarding World that involved flying on brooms and throwing, catching, and dodging balls. In the dream, Harry was the star of the team and he felt himself zooming around on his broom to the cheers of "Harry! Harry!" But then, Harry felt shaking, as if he was losing control of his broom. And something changed in the cheering - unintelligible words were added to his name./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.1199998855591px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Fully waking up, Harry realized that Ron was shaking him, saying loudly: "Wake up Harry, for God's sake!" Once Harry opened his eyes and glared at his friend, Ron mumbled apologetically that it has been ten minutes. After five more, a quite angry Harry turned to his other side and tried to fall asleep. Yet something did not let him. After tossing and turning for about ten minutes and still being unable to settle, Harry cast an angry look at Ron./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.1199998855591px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""My clothes!" he commanded, and Ron quickly passed Harry his robe as Harry began his search for his glasses. After half an hour, dressed lopsidedly in his robes, which managed to get stained by the ink that he spilled while searching for his glasses, now safely on (though upside down), Harry decided to solve the mystery of whatever it was that did not let him sleep. He tossed off the covers of his bed, and shook out the pillow, and even leant over to look underneath the bed. And then, with a loud "ew" he saw it. Partially hidden under the carpet was an old, partially rotten sausage./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.1199998855591px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"It was a mystery how in the world it got there, but it lay on the floor right before Harry's sleepy eyes - green and mouldy, and slimy when Harry poked it with his wand. Harry picked it up with two fingers, wrinkling his nose in disgust, with the intention to put it into someone else's bed, when an idea came to his mind: He could probably keep the sausage - who knows when a stinky sausage would be useful? It was only last week that Malfoy had called him a show-off. Harry despised people like Malfoy - were they insane to speak the truth? It could ruin all of his reputation, after all./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.1199998855591px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"By the time Harry thought all these thoughts and slid the sausage into his robe pocket, Ron found time to clean the ink stains from the carpet, to replace the bottle of ink with his own, and to pack Harry's school supplies. As soon as Ron sat down to take a break, he heard Harry's voice: "Let's go down to breakfast, Hermione still has to do our Charms homework!" He and slightly tired Ron bounded down the stairs into the Main Hall, a sort of cafeteria./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.1199998855591px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Now is the time to describe our characters. Harry was a skinny, small, and rather average boy, whose most magical trait was his excellence in the art of doing nothing, and of wasting time. After the Each year he got tired of being average and attempted to show off by killing a wizard whom he believed to be evil - Lord Voldemort./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.1199998855591px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"The said Lord had also been convinced that there is a wizard that deserves death - or two wizards for that matter. It was just too bad for him that that couple happened to be the Potters, Harry's parents. When getting rid of them, Voldemort noticed the baby and decided to kill him too. Then he took pity on the boy. He did like children after all, and this one could turn out not too bad, even though his parents were known for been rash and not too bright. After thinking about it, Voldemort decided to mark him with a scar - later this could prove useful, if it turned out that killing Harry was the best option after all. But during the process, something went horribly wrong - Voldemort felt a pain in the middle of his face, and when he looked into the mirror the next time, he found that his beautiful nose fell off, leaving only two slits./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.1199998855591px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"The realization made him cry for so long his eyes turned a permanent red. Which happened to make him look really scary. At first, he was dismayed, but later he got used to his new looks - they turned out to be surprisingly good for intimidation. It was, after all, really fun to see people run away at the mere sight of him, but . For some reason though, Harry was angry at Voldemort, as if he could not see that the Dark Lord, as he was often called because of his tastes in style (mainly robe color), suffered from that spell way more than the boy. The scar made the boy famous. The noselessness made Voldemort ugly. He remembered quite well going to visit one of his comrades, Lucius Malfoy. When he leaned over the cradle of Lucius' baby boy, the child shrieked in terror and moved his fists around in a way that would have been offensive if it would not have been cute. It was quite sad, actually./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.1199998855591px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Harry's two best friends were not that much better than him, at least in terms of ... pretty much anything Voldemort could notice. Definitely not wisdom. Voldemort was seriously beginning to despair in the intelligence of mankind, especially of wizards, who barely did any work - as long as they had any talent, a wave of a wand and a few muttered words were sufficient to get them out of nearly any situation. They had good genes, something that could be called a talent in magic, and no ability to do anything useful not by magic./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.1199998855591px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Harry's friend was a red-headed moron, who only thought about food and sometimes about chess. His name was Ron Weasley, and we already have seen a glimpse of him in the beginning of the story. He possessed stupidity even stronger than Harry's (as hard as it is, or should be, to imagine), and he was a very good tool for Harry. Fascinated by the scar on Harry's forehead, which was rumoured to be a sign that he did not die at Voldemort's attempt to kill him, Ron was eager to do anything that Harry needed to be done - whether it was homework, or cleaning, or ganging up - even if not at the highest quality./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.1199998855591px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Harry's other friend was Hermione. Though she was found by most to be too obsessed with herself and her books, one could not deny that she was one of the smartest witches of her generation, if not of the time. It was hard to see what kept her as part of the trio, given her brains, which should have told her to find better company, but perhaps she too was drawn by how famous Harry was. Or because she knew that Ron would be her future husband. Anyways, Harry found that he could use her quite easily if he needed a spell done, or just wanted to scare someone with a bunch of facts - she was more reliable than Ron when it came to academics, though she always wondered why exactly her help was needed, which made Harry uneasy. Being the bookworm that she was, she seemed to be the only person in the school who had actually read the rules, so Harry and Ron spent hours making up lies that would get their third friend to give them help and not issues with the professors./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.1199998855591px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"When Harry and Ron came down for breakfast, they chose seats around Hermione. With Ron on the left and Harry on the right, she could not possibly ignore them, perfect positioning to bother her about their unfinished homework. Harry turned to her, planning to begin his bothering. But he shifted the folds of his robe, and the pocket with the sausage, causing her to suddenly wrinkle her nose and scoot closer to a surprised Ron./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.1199998855591px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""What IS that?" she asked. "Harry, is there any chance that smell is coming from you?"/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.1199998855591px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Harry and Ron stared at each other, trying to come up with an excuse. After waiting for a few seconds and not hearing an answer, Hermione stood up and stormed away, the impression slightly ruined by the bag of books that she dragged along and which caused her to go twice as slow as she normally would have - except that books weighing her down was normal for Hermione. Harry and Ron kept their eye contact for quite a while, until Ron turned back to his food. Having nothing better to do, Harry turned his eyes to the clock and was shocked. The hour until Transfiguration somehow turned into five minutes! They would definitely be late!/p 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

So I am back and I hope you did not hate what just happened… yet. Here is the second chapter! If you like it, I can attempt something similar, just tell me in the comments below! Or if you don't, be sure to tell me to get out of this archive! Tell me anything!

* * *

Harry looked at Ron, who was, as usual, stuffing himself with food. It seemed like he ate as much as all the other students put together. Smirking at the thought, Harry began debating with himself whether to get up and to go to class. Now that his surprise at the realization of what time it was had worn off, he felt that he could think clearly again. Going to class was least desirable, he did not like Professor McGonagall too much. He could still not get over the fact that someone like her could like cats. Of all things. He himself despised cats - they meowed too loudly and were small and generally useless. And they licked themselves. Saliva is so sticky, after all! But then, if Harry would decide not to go to class Hermione would definitely notice. And that would not be that good. After all, he might need her help someday.

After ten minutes of discussion, Harry thought that if he set out now, he could come to class on time to say hi to everyone, and to keep Hermione from being too angry. A stroll to the class would take at least half an hour if he would want it to, after all. And if he needed an excuse, he could always blame Ron for eating for too long. So Harry cleared his throat and told Ron that he was planning to take a stroll in the general direction of the Transfiguration classroom. Which turned out to be a mistake.

The next two minutes, Harry was staring in horror with his ears covered as Ron became a _something,_ a something that was running around the cafeteria, waving its arms, leaving splatters of something that looked like a mixture of jam and gravy on the empty tables and benches and on the floor, all the while shouting something very loudly about irresponsibility and being late and murder. Harry could not quite comprehend what upset Ron so much, but he let it be. When Ron looked a bit calmed down, Harry left the hall, shouting over his shoulder for Ron to clean up after himself, and to do something with his robes. After all, even in the wizarding world it was considered quite unfashionable to wear robes decorated with a chaotic pattern of gravy, jam, egg splatters, and an occasional piece of toast.

Harry turned and passed through several hallways until he realized that he did not know the way to class. He always walked with Ron or, more rarely, Hermione. But he never bothered to remember the way. He stopped in the middle of some kind of chamber and started to head back, when he realized he had no idea from which of the three corridors he came. All of them seemed to end in other corridors, halls, and rooms. So Harry threw his head back and shouted as loudly as he could: "ROOON!ROOOOOOOOOON! HEEEEEEEEEEEELP!"

It was only several seconds before Ron rushed in and grabbed Harry's hand, turned on his heel, and jogged through a series of corridors, rooms, and halls. Harry could hear teachers opening their doors to swear loudly at "the new generation, which doesn't care about teaching, or learning, for that matter". Stifling giggles, he followed Ron.

After what seemed like hours, but probably equalled no more than ten minutes in reality, Ron and Harry arrived at the door. Harry quietly commanded Ron to stop. Looking at his friend's attire in disgust, and guessing that the cafeteria did not fare much better, Harry sighed and opened the door into the classroom.

The class was learning - as always. Hermione was raising her hand - as always. Harry and Ron were late - as nearly always. But instead of sneaking to their seats, unnoticed, as always, this time the whole class, and Professor McGonagall, turned towards the pair.

"Potter, Weasley, what IS this? I demand an answer!" exclaimed the teacher. Harry glared at Ron, who started mumbling something about mending his teddy bear but the eggs being covered in ink. After noting to himself that Ron was making about as much sense as earlier that morning, Harry decided to take matters in his own hands. Ron was given a chance to come up with an excuse, right? So Harry said, loudly and clearly, as always when he was lying and he knew it:

"Professor, Ronald here was eating breakfast for way too long and I could not drag him from the table." Harry then smiled at Ron and, with McGonagall's approving nod, went for his seat at the back of the classroom. When he was passing her desk he heard, above the class' jeering at Ron's attire, McGonagall's quiet voice.

"Potter, I don't even want to know what this smell is. There is no excuse. Out."

Harry had been told to get out at least fifty times by each of his professors - nearly every time when he bothered to come to class. He still did not understand why they thought it was a punishment - what was bad about having the professors themselves excusing him from lessons? He happily went out of the class, shutting the door behind himself.

He decided that he felt generous today, and that he would deign attend the next class - Potions.

The Potions teacher, Professor Snape, did not meet Harry's idea of "likeable" at all. First, his looks were _atrocious_. He had a pale waxy complexion, which made Harry think of overheated soap bars, and black hair which was just in no way near fashionable. Besides, he wasn't nice. He seemed to be always brooding, or talking to the students in a snake-like voice. The only good thing about him was that he dismissed Harry from class nearly as often as McGonagall. Besides, Snape's dungeon was easily located by the green slime which seemed to spread from it for at least a quarter of the school. Luckily, Harry was in that quarter, and he followed the slime towards Snape's class. Thinking about how lucky he was to escape McGonagall, and still trying to understand what exactly Ron was talking about at the end of breakfast, Harry lost focus on anything but his thoughts and the green slime. Suddenly, he heard the cold voice of Snape.

-Potter, do not even bother to come to my class. Do not come even near until you wash and change your clothes. I am afraid that some of your fellow classmates may.. fall ill at the smell that radiates from you.- After a moment's hesitation, Snape added: - Actually, don't bother coming to any of your classes, none of them would welcome you. But you are welcome to come to my class for detention later this evening. Yes, once you wash up and get rid of that **smell** , come to my class for detention.-

Harry's emotions mixed. He was dismissed from all of his classes, and that was very good news. He even felt that he might have hugged Snape if he were not so slimy - it was very good news, after all. But then, detention was not welcome, nor was it as easily avoidable as class. So Harry sufficed with a simple "Yes, Sir" and backed out, tracing his steps back towards McGonagall's room. When Snape was safely back in his office, Harry threw his head backwards and, again called out:

-ROOOOOOOOON! HEEEEEEEEEELP!ROOOOOOON!-

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I cannot emphasize how much reviews and likes mean to me! Tell me what you thought, even if it is but one word!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: All hail the Sausage**

Harry managed to find Professor McGonagall's classroom at some point in time, though it did take quite an effort. He came to the door just as the last of the students exited the classroom. He was regretting that he had not stopped Hermione from going away during breakfast. After all, she was a reasonable person, and could be a good friend - that is, when she did not feel like scolding Harry and Ron and when she was not sitting with her nose stuck in a book. Harry was just about to speed up and catch to his friends when he overheard a snippet of conversation:

"Do you really think Ron could eat for one and a half hours straight?"

"Why else would Potter need to pull him away?"

"Ah, but what if he did not?"

"How else would you explain that smell?"

"Oh, if they feed us things that smell like that I am leaving this school!"

"But where else could Potter acquire such a dreadful… aroma?"

The sudden realization hit Harry. The whole school knew about the sausage, everyone had smelled it. While most other people would be ashamed, Harry was not.

"Yes, I am all the more famous! People shall respect me, and hail me as the king of the  
sausages!" he thought."And of smells, too!"

The thought seemed incredibly appealing to him. It served to raise his mood. And raising his mood meant two things. First, he always got extremely proud and arrogant. Second, he also began to feel very generous. As contradictory as these two things seemed, they were not at all.

So Harry, feeling that everyone else was beneath him, decided not to go after Hermione after all. Who was she in comparison to him, the Chosen One, who managed to rob Lord Voldemort of his nose? Why would he want favours from her? With that thought, Harry decided not to go after her, at least until he needed her help.

And, feeling generous, he also decided that he would deign come to detention. Following the students, he made it up to the Main Hall, where he had another light meal. Then, making sure that he was alone in the hall, Harry took out his sausage. He felt that, generous as he was, he owed it some thanks. So he murmured to it: "I thank you, most sincerely, sausage, for all that you have given me. You have given me the smell that I shall cherish for… quite a while (he felt like being frank), and soon power over the students shall come to me. Without you, I am nothing."

Satisfied, Harry stared at the sausage for some more time. He only put it away when he heard the doors opening and people coming in. It was time for dinner. Since he ate already, and the prospect of seeing Ron and Hermione was not that good, Harry left for the dormitories, following several students who needed to bring their bags back in.

* * *

While the students were having dinner, Harry washed up, changed his clothes, and got ready for detention. Keeping watch for Ron and Hermione, he started to make his way to the Potions classroom.

Just as he came to the green slime, Ron and Hermione caught up to him. Ron spoke first:

"Harry, I told Hermione about the Sausage."

Hermione continued: "Harry, whatever reason you had, that Sausage idea was not wise, to say the least. Now Snape also talked about it in front of the whole class… and we are so sorry for your detention…"

Harry looked at his friends with something akin to pity. They did not understand. Then he looked back at his feet. It was hard to look at something besides the floor, which was slippery because of the amounts of slime. Suddenly he heard Hermione's voice on his left:

"Harry, where are you going? Professor Snape's class is on the left, you are going to the right!"

Harry looked at her with annoyance. "Hermione, for once you must be wrong. I always locate Professor Snape's class by the slime leading to it. The slime goes to the right, and I shall follow it."

"But Harry," argued Ron, "you know Hermione, she's never wrong! Besides, this IS the way! The class is on the left!"

Harry shook his head. His friends probably wanted to keep him from detention. Where could the slime be coming from, if not the Potions class? He continued his stubborn journey to the right. Several seconds later, he heard Ron and Hermione follow him. "So I was right!" he thought. And then, "How could I not be? I, the Chosen One" He continued smugly. Ha, even Hermione recognized that he was right! Otherwise why would she follow him?

It was only several minutes later that he heard Hermione's voice: "As a matter of fact, I do not remember seeing this passage before," and then Ron's reply, "Me too."

And then the fateful question, asked by Hermione: "Harry, are you sure you want to go there? This is suspicious!"

And Harry silently continued his journey.

After ten minutes or so of walking, the friends came up to a door. Harry opened it, getting ready to face Snape. Looking back at his friends to let them know that they were dismissed and that he would now continue to even as he stepped forward, he felt a gush of wind and he just _knew_ that the door and indeed the whole passageway, since that fateful turn to the right, was going through space. And he heard behind his back Ron's gasp and Hermione's shriek.

Everything was moving, nothing was stable, he could feel the floors shudder and change under his feet. And then the change stopped, as suddenly as it began. Harry opened his eyes, which he realized have been closed shut for quite a while. The sight before him surprised him more than anything. In fact, he would have been less surprised if Ron suddenly went on a diet or Hermione forsook her books. For the transformation was terrible indeed.

The door and the passageway were gone. Harry and his two friends (luckily they were still behind him when he turned to look) were in the middle of a very big room, larger than the main hall at Hogwarts. The floors were polished, and the ceiling tall, and in all that great space Harry could not find a single window or door. Terror washed through him.

"Hermione! Please, get us all out of here!" And then he looked straight in front of himself for the first time. And he saw him. Lord Voldemort.

Dressed in black, his pale noseless face standing out in the dark room, his red eyes burning like embers amidst that whiteness, he truly was frightening. Harry could barely think in his terror, when suddenly an idea came to his mind.

He reached into the pocket of his robes and lifted the sausage. Its smell seemed to be radiating from it with a force twice as strong as before, and Harry could barely stand on his feet without being knocked off his feet by its strength. Yet he stood tall, and, holding the sausage on an outstretched arm, approached the Dark Lord.

The red eyes widened at Harry's approach. Since Voldemort's nose was not there to filter the smell, it went straight into the Lord's mind. His red eyes widened. He stepped backwards dizzily. And he fell to the ground, losing consciousness.

A satisfied Harry leant over the Dark Lord. Looking at the hated face, thoughts washed over him. He realized that the sausage's goal in coming to him was to defeat the Dark Lord. And, with relief and a feeling that he achieved something great again, he took the sausage and lowered it into the Dark Lord's , not looking back, he came up to shocked Ron and Hermione.

He grabbed Ron's left hand and Hermione's right, and then suddenly again the room began to spin, spin and he felt himself moving through space until the motion stopped. He found himself at the place where he turned right, yet now the passageway on the right was there no longer.

Harry no longer felt like going to detention. Instead, he looked at Hermione.

"Well, now that I took you out of there, you owe me something," he said.

"Anything."

"Then let us get to our Charm's homework. Though no. You get to it, I am going to Dumbledore."

Dumbledore, the school's principal, heard out his most famous student. That very night, in fact, it was proven. For Harry did not show up at the dinner that day, nor the next, nor ever again. After hearing out his story, Dumbledore decided that Harry was definitely either crazy or lazy. The boy was sent home and not invited to Hogwarts again.

The End/Finis

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So, that was that. Do not kill me or anything, but tell me anything! I shall answer to any requests, and maybe write a sequel, prequel, or wholly different work.


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